


child-heart losers

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Erica and Isaac are Twins, F/M, M/M, Multi, ikr, who both bang scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>one day, erica says to scott “people are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	child-heart losers

**Author's Note:**

> wow okay, this totally started out as some weird experiment and then turned into actually fic? basically, erica and isaac twins from a well-off home with mostly absent parents who scott meets at a club and sort of starts living with them. it's very a la bertolucci's the dreamers and one-scene is almost nearly lifted from the film so sorry mom, sorry bertolucci. 
> 
> also, ugh, this isn't beta'd? i tried to catch all my mistakes but i am so, so, so bad at that. my apologies. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR DRUG USE AND INCEST.

one day, erica says to scott “people are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges,” and isaac echoes the statement with a nod of his head. scott thinks he has heard that somewhere before, on the radio or on some dusty song on his ipod or in a book he half read with the tv on but he nods and erica pops her gum.

(he’ll learn later, bridges can mean a lot of things - not just metaphorical bridges. it can be means hands extended to shake, arms extended to hug or, legs spread to fit snuggly between. and he will learn, erica and isaac are never lonely.)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

erica and isaac are twins - and this, you would never guess.

“i was born first, naturally” erica tells scott, a lazy too-hot summer afternoon curled in on herself in an old armchair, golden hair reflected even brighter in the sunlight. “followed me out and has been following me ever since.”

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

the first time scott ever sees them, is at a club in brooklyn.

erica’s shirt looks like a preschoolers finger painting, this girl who looks like some dancing skeleton, odd angles and tight skin. scott can't tell what's stained on her jeans, if it's spit or vomit or sweat or someones spilled drink. this pretty little skeleton, this mess of bones and hair, has another equally skeletal being wrapped around her from behind, ass to crotch, swaying together like they've fused that way.

scott lied about his age to get a job here, serving drinks he's not allowed to have himself and the bright lights, all pink and purple and blue, wash everyone's skin out, makes them look sickly and dying. like ghosts overdosed in the bathroom never resting. these two, though, the lights bounce of their skin like they're wearing glitter but scott is sure they aren't.

someone asks him for a scotch on the rocks and when he turns back, they're gone.

he's sure he's never going to see them again.

he's wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

the house they live in is very big and very, very empty.

erica and isaac’s bedrooms are next to each other’s.

“we used to share,” isaac says, his sister settled in his lap, his arms around her waist. “mom used to say we’d reach for each other through the bars of our crib but that was probably an exaggeration.”

looking at them now, scott wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t.

“i remember when they finally separated us,” it is erica’s turn to speak now, fidgeting just slightly in her brothers lap. “we invented our own morse code to tap out to each other through the walls, couldn’t fall asleep if we didn’t.”

isaac nuzzles into his sister’s neck then and if late that night isaac’s door is shut and erica’s door is wide open, revealing an undisturbed bed when scott passes by it on the way to the bathroom, it’s not scott’s place to say anything.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

he sees them for the second time, again, in brooklyn but this time in the broad daylight. though, he assumes neither of them have slept yet. ericas make-up is smeared, isaacs shirt is wrinkled and both of them have hair that is terribly tangled.

“ _you_ ,” erica points him out in the line at a starbucks. “i recognize you.”

isaac suddenly appears behind her, “yeah, he was at that club a few weeks ago.” he says, hands her a coffee, winds an arm around her waist.

scott, later that same day, asks if they’re dating and all they do is laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

isaac is the first one to kiss scott (and this, _this_ surprises scott. this is one of the only things about the siblings that does. the closeness, the shared beds - it all seems so natural. this, though, scott still hears erica saying _been following me ever since_ so.)

they take scott to a club in queens and feed him drinks and pretty coloured pills until scott feels like his stomach is filled with butterflies that are going to pour out of his mouth at any moment.

and then isaac just sort of, he sort of takes scott's face in both of his hands and crushes their mouths together and he tastes like his sister ( _strawberry lip gloss, bubblegum, fruity alcohol_ ) and it pushes all those colorful butterflies out of scott's throat and back down into his stomach.

(or, maybe, just one slips between the connection between his and isaac's mouth and makes it’s way down into isaac's stomach, wings beating so hard it almost makes isaac wants to throw up.

maybe.)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

there are no family pictures in the house. there are rembrandts, picassos, warhols to cover all the bare walls but scott finds no toothless photos of isaac or erica, blown up huge by proud parents, starring at him as he walks through the halls.

scott has to wonder what they were like as kids. he tries to imagine isaac pulling erica’s pigtails or erica pushing isaac into the mud but he can’t. none of that seems to fit them. it’s much easier to imagine isaac being the one to smooth out his sister’s hair and for erica to be the one to wipe the mud from isaac’s shorts and place kisses to the scrapes on his knees.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

“do you think we’re freaks?” erica asks scott one night. it is late at night or early morning, scott doesn't know. isaac is fast asleep in the room next door and scott is sharing erica’s bed.

she turns to face him, slides one of her slim legs between his.

“why would you ask me that?”

“because he - _isaac_ said,” she starts but her voice catches. she drops her eyes so she’s looking at scott’s hand splayed across his belly instead of at his face and she tries again. “isaac said you’d think - you _do_ think we’re freaks, monsters, disgusting.”

scott tries hard to find anything even remotely like the feelings erica is describing inside of him, searches himself, but he can’t. he drops his hand from his stomach to the mattress, so his and erica’s fingers are inches apart.

“i don’t,” he tells her. “i don’t think that.”

he wishes he could reach out and link their fingers together but erica only ever holds isaac's hand.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

the same night isaac kisses him, scott presses erica against the gritty counter in the women’s bathroom and pushes his hand up under her skirt. she’s warm and _so_ wet there, her tights sticky against her thighs from it.

she kisses him like she wants to rip him in half and apart. her teeth are bruising, cutting, animal-like against his mouth.

he lifts her onto the counter, dirty water soaking into her skirt and pulls her tights and panties down her legs. and then he is _there_ \- inside, pads of his fingers pushing against her cunt. erica gasps and grips hard at the back of his neck and scott thinks, if he dropped to his knees and replaced his fingers with his tongue, would she taste like her brother ( _salt, spicy cologne and hard liquor_ )?

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

“we we’re conjoined once,” erica tells him, “right at the temple.” she laughs and presses her forehead against her brothers.

they are all three of them sprawled, identical long limbs and sharp bones, on the floor of the houses huge library, with tall ceilings and every single wall lined with books.

(“anyone ever read all of these?” scott had asked the first time he saw it.

“no,” isaac had replied. “but we’re going to.” and he had kissed his sister’s temple.)

scott is high, _so fucking high_ and erica and isaac have some good shit. he’s buzzing and all giggly and he wants to ask them where the fuck they got this stuff because it is prime and it’s hard-hitting but goes down smooth and he could sit here and smoke this stuff until he died.

“that’s impossible,” he slurs. “you’re not identical, that’s _impossible_.”

erica just shushes him and climbs into his lap, kissing him hard and sloppy and wet. scott puts his hands on her waist and he can feel isaac watching them, sucking lazily on the joint. scott doesn’t care, he isn’t bothered. it just feels like an extension to - _everything_. an extension to all of this, their relationship, their lives. he feels like he’s learning to crawl; like he’s always had the tools, he's just never known he actually _could_.

erica pushes her hand against the bulge in scott’s pants and laughs when he draws in a sharp breath.

(in the end, it’s isaac who sucks him off while erica presses kisses all over his face and strokes his hair.

after he comes scott pushes her onto the floor and pushes her skirt up around her hips so he can lick at her cunt. he’s not exactly sure when and how isaac comes but when scott reaches up to kiss isaac and worm his hand into his pants, he finds isaac sticky inside them already. scott smirks at that and sucks a hickey onto the curve of isaac’s neck to compinsate.

they order pizza after. and smoke two more bowls, cottonmouths tasting of each other and pepperoni and cheese.)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

(“erica,” isaac says to scott, “means _eternal ruler_.”

“and isaac,” erica speaks now, “isaac means _he will laugh_.”

she turns to scott then.

“your name means _painted warrior_ , did you know?")

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

they go out for heaping servings of curry chicken on a friday night. erica picks off of both of their plates and steals gulps of both of their sodas.

scott and erica share one side of the table while isaac has the other side to himself.

after they have finished and isaac has excused himself to go to the bathroom, scott has two fingers inside of erica and her hand is curled tight around his wrist underneath the table, shielded from everyone’s eyes by the deep red tablecloth.

“do you need anything?” a waiter approaches.

scott shakes his head and fits a third finger into erica, “just the bill, please.” he says.

erica bites her lip so hard it bleeds.

(“i blame you,” scott will say against her sternum later, “i blame you for making me so crude.”

erica will laugh loud and unabashed, then she will roll her hips against scott’s.

he will shudder and push into her.)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

scott never asks about their parents.

except, once - once he was drunk and erica had convinced him to do acid and it felt like his skeleton was too big for the confines of his skin and he had said, “your parents -”

erica, equally fucked up and vibrating inside of herself, cut him off with, “ _aujourd'hui, maman est morte. ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas_ ," she shook her head furiously, " _j'ai reçu un télégramme de l'asile: mère décédée. enterrement demain. sentiments distingués. cela ne veut rien dire. c’était peut-être hier._ ”

scott had had no idea what it meant.

(he wondered if isaac did.

he wondered if it would be okay to ask isaac if he did.

in the end, he decided it wasn't.)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

isaac makes breakfast one morning, huge helpings of eggs and bacons and french toast, and scott fucks him in the kitchen.

isaac is fully-dressed (because he always gets up so early, every morning, up early but he has nothing to do but wait for erica and scott to get up so scott doesn’t understand _why_ he gets up so early) and scott is still in his boxers, his hair mussed up, his eyes sleepy.

he still manges to push isaac against the kitchen counter and thrust inside him, though.

isaac is mostly quiet (while erica is always loud, she always echoes through the whole huge and empty house) and scott tries to be too. he bites hard at isaac’s shoulder to keep from groaning too loud or whimpering too much.

(he realises after, when he catches sight of the bruise he left on isaac’s shoulder when isaac pulls his shirt off to take a shower, he had to busy his mouth with marring isaac’s skin because he wanted so badly to lean to whisper in his ear,

“do you fuck your sister like this?”)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

“am i sort of proxy for whatever fucked up shit is going on between you and your sister?” erica is upstairs and scott is downstairs, starring isaac down in the library.

isaac looks disinterested, “what makes you think that?”

scott realizes then, slowly, that it will always be _ericaandisaac_ or _isaacanderica_ and scott doesn't fit between them or beside them or with them at all. scott is just here, for now. maybe they’ve done this before, with someone else.

scott stares at isaac and he wonders how this all started. he pictures isaac listening to his sister finger herself in bed late at night, pictures erica pushing her hand into her brother's pants in the closet at a party.

pictures the way they must kiss each other the way children hold their fingers up to their mouths to show they are quiet. when their mouths press to one another they must be saying without any words, s _hh, be quiet, this is ours, yours and mine and nobody elses._

when they kiss scott, all it does it draw blood and make his lips ache.

scott is brought back to the first night he saw them, how they had been pressed together and weaved around each other. he wonders what they did after scott had lost sight of them.

“this is bullshit,” scott says en lieu of a reply.

“then why are you here?” isaac retorts.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

( _why are you here_ , he asks himself that night, after isaac blows in the shower and erica rides scott in her brother’s bed.

_why the fuck are you here_ , he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand.

_where the fuck else have you to be_?)

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

the first night scott stays over, he finds them curled around each other on the huge couch in the foyer downstairs.

 

in his sleep, isaac’s hand is splayed across his sister’s thigh.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

_**fin.** _

**Author's Note:**

> so, the french erica speaks is a quote from the stranger by albert camus (which i am reading in french class rn actually), it translate to: "maman died today. or yesterday maybe, i don't know. i got a telegram from the home: mother deceased. funeral tomorrow. faithfully yours. that doesn't mean anything. maybe it was yesterday."


End file.
